FanArt 100
by Vareniki
Summary: The 100 prompts for any fandom. I chose Hetalia. Some'll be short drabbles, some'll be like chapters.
1. 029: Christmas

"Germany, Germany, Germany!" The blond groaned as Italy leapt onto the bed. "It's Christmas! Come on, wake up!"

"Italy, get off!" Germany sat up and glared at the brunette.

"It's Christmas!" Italy grabbed his hand and pulled him out of bed.

"I'll be down in a moment." Germany said, suddenly blushing and smoothing his hair back.

"Ok, I'll make coffee!" Italy scampered down the stairs. Ludwig waited for a moment and walked to his closet. His huge German Shepherd looked up and barked.

"Move, Blackie." The dog leapt up and Ludwig opened his closet. "Come here, libeling." He picked up a small present and walked down stairs. He hid the present under his shirt as Italy trotted into the living room.

"What's under your shirt?" Italy asked, handing Germany a present. A little dog yipped happily and stuck its head out of Germany's shirt.

"Puppy!" Italy took the tiny Dachshund into his arms and cuddled the puppy.

"She is for you." Italy squealed.

"Grazi, Ludwig!" He threw an arm around the tall country. "I'm going to name her Louise! After you!" Germany smiled as Blackie jumped up on Italy, trying to sniff the puppy.

"Now open yours!" Germany carefully pulled the paper away from a box. He lifted the lid and his eyes widened.

A painting of him and Japan, sitting under a blooming cherry tree. Japan gazed serenely up at the blossoms, his legs tucked under him. Germany leaned against the trunk, an ever so faint smile on his lips. He was looking at something else though.

"What am I looking at?"

"Me." Italy said as Louise snuggled against his chest and fell asleep. "I meant to give it to you a long time ago. I just never finished it till now."

"It's wonderful."

"So is Lousie."

XXX

"Ivan! Wake up!" America jumped on the bed and tugged at his lover's blankets. "Dude, wake up, it's Christmas! And Santa left us an awesome breakfast! I didn't know Finland would bring food!" Russia smiled as he rolled over.

"I don't think it was Finland, sunflower." He said standing.

"Why do ya say that?" Alfred practically drug Ivan to the kitchen.

"I don't think he cooks Russian food." Alfred stopped and grinned up at Ivan. "It was you." Russia smiled. "Awesome."

"You're welcome."

"First is presents." Alfred grabbed Ivan's hand and hauled him to the living room. "This one's for you." He handed Russia a huge box. "It took forever for it to get here. I was scared it got lost." Russia opened the wrapping paper and looked at it confused. "What's wrong? It's supposed to be Harry Potter. Did they send the wrong books?" Alfred looked at the covers. He was certain they said Harry Potter on the cover.

"I've already read them. You forced me into it, remember?" Ivan asked.

"Yeah but you had to read mine. These are in Russian. Besides, you don't own them." Alfred smiled childishly. Russia chuckled and took Alfred into his arms.

"Blagodaryu Vas, podsolnechnika." (Thank you, sunflower.) Alfred hugged him back.

"And now for your present." Ivan said, sliding off the couch and sitting next to the tree. He picked up a small box wrapped in pale blue paper.

"I thought that was from you." America joined Russia on the floor and took the box. He viscously tore the paper and opened the box.

"It took a long time to get it." Ivan said sheepishly. "I hope you like it." America grinned and wrapped a long dark blue scarf around his neck.

"I look like you now." He said, pulling it up over his nose. He took a deep breath and smiled. "It smells like you."

"Do you like it?"

Alfred snuggled against him. "Of course I do, big guy. I love everything you do."

"I thought you hated Communism."

"Ok. _Almost_ everything."

XXX

"Am I Catholic or Protestant?" Laying on France's bed, Britain looked up at the ceiling and scrunched his eyebrows.

"How can you possibly be drunk, sourcils?" France asked rolling over to face Britain.

"I'm not." France raised an eyebrow. "I swear, I'm not. Christmas is just a confusing time for me, that's all."

"Ah." France frowned. "How did you know-?"

"You had an eyebrow raised?"

"Oui."

"I could hear it." France sat up.

"What?"

"Shall we open presents?" Britain sat up and bent over to get his slippers. "Ack!" France grabbed him from behind and pulled him back to the bed.

"Why can't I just have you for my present, mon lapin?"

"Because I actually bought you something this year." Britain grumbled. But after a moment of France rubbing his cheek against the crook of Britain neck, Arthur sighed and smiled.

"Was that a laugh, pirate?"

"Maybe, fop."

"Well, I think this present might be worth looking at." France stood and walked towards the door. Britain shook his head and followed.

"This is for you." France handed him a box and sat on the couch.

"Is it-" Britain laughed and shook his head again. "It's a tea pot." It was a very pretty tea pot, though. It was white, with a black drawing of a pirate ship. "Thank you." France smiled and kissed him gently.

"Yours is the big one." France jumped up and grabbed the box. He childishly tore into the paper and gasped. A pair of beautiful black boots gleamed up at him.

"Merci, chère." He said softly, a grateful smile on his lips.

"I'm glad you like them." Britain nervously and carefully toyed with the tea pot. "I hope they're in your size though." France greedily pulled on the boots.

"Ils sont parfaits!" he clapped his hands happily. "I think we should your present to good use, oui?" Britain stood and hugged him.

"France?"

"Oui?"

"You forgot to clothe yourself again."

* * *

><p><em>A REALLY late Christmas one... Happy very late holidays!<em>


	2. 024: Family

Britain sang softly to the peacefully sleeping country snuggled against his chest. "Lay down your head, and I'll sing you a lullaby. Back to the years of loo-li,lai-ley. And I'll sing you to sleep and I'll sing you tomorrow. Bless you with love. For the road that you go." America's small head rested above his big brother's heart, the slow beating and the vibrations of Britain's voice lulling him to sleep.

Britain slowly ran his hand in circles on America's back and smiled as the little boy took a fistful of Britain's shirt in his tiny hand.

"May you sail fair to the far fields of fortune with diamonds and pearls at your head and your feet and may you need never to banish misfortune. May you find kindness in all that you meet." He desperately hoped it for his charge. The world of Medieval Europe was harsh and unforgiving. It was truly a dark place. When he was America's age, he had seen invasions from his own family and that horrible Empire from the South.

He shifted a little, trying to become comfortable again but not wake America. The little colony frowned a little in his sleep and moved his head, trying to find the smoothing rhythm of Britain's heart again.

"May there always be angels to watch over you, to guard you each step of the way, to guard you and keep you safe from all harm. Loo-li,loo-li,lai-ley." Angles. Britain wondered if they really watched the countries or if they even wanted anything to do with them. If they wouldn't watch the others, he begged for them to at least watch his America. His beautiful little America.

Britain yawned and continued his song. "May you bring love and may you bring happiness. Be loved in return to the end your days. Now fall off to sleep I'm not meaning to keep you. I'll just sit for awhile and sing loo-li,lai-ley." He yawned again and lay down. His hands absentmindedly ran through America's hair and down his to his back again.

"May there always be angels to watch over you, to guard you each step of the way, to guard you and keep you safe from all harm. Loo-li,loo-li,lai-ley. Loo-li,loo-li,lai-ley." He smiled again at the little boy and closed his eyes. The last thing he saw before drifting into a deep slumber was his charge's serene face.

* * *

><p><em>Song fic to "Sleepsong". It's a really sweet song, I suggest listening. <em>


	3. 030: Death

"Russia, Ivan, look at me!" America fell to his knees and gathered the once powerful nation into his arms.

Russia smiled up at him, his eyes blood shot and tired.

"Privet, Alfred." the sound of his dry cracking voice brought tears to America's eyes.

"Come on, dude." He whimpered. "You can't leave me." Alfred entwined his fingers in Ivan's thinning, filthy hair and buried his face in Ivan's scarf.

"Alfred, look at me." Ivan whispered.

Alfred didn't want to, though. Russia's appearance terrified him. His cheeks were a sickly shade of yellow and hollow. Red gashes ran across Ivan's previously flawless face. The perfect parallelism helped Alfred realize what had made them.

"Let me die, America." Alfred heard the whisper as if it was from afar.

America looked down at him, tears flowing freely and an expression of disbelief on his face.

"Could you help me?"

"With what?"

"I want to feel you skin again." Alfred quickly pulled Ivan's gloves off and winced. Blisters riddled the man's hands, dried blood and skin rotted beneath his finger nails.

Suddenly weeping, Alfred held Ivan's hands to his face. He gasped for air as he sobbed harder. Those weren't Ivan's hands. Ivan's were soft and cool, these were rough and burning. This wasn't Ivan! Ivan was perfect, he was strong, not this weak dying, corpse!

"Krasivye Amerike. Kak ya vozlyubil vas." (Beautiful America. How I have loved you." Ivan formed in his own eyes. "Will you remember me, pet?"

"Of course I'll remember you! Don't talk that way!" America held him closer, imaging for a moment, Ivan was the beautiful, strong country he once was.

"Promise?" Ivan smiled a little, then coughed harshly. "Let me go. Pozvolʹte mne zdesʹ umeretʹ." (Let me die here)

America gently rubbed his thumb against Ivan's cheek and took a deep breath.

"How 'bout I smile for ya, big guy?" he tried using his cheerful voice. "Ya like it when I smile."

His hero grin sadly spread across his face.

One last breath passed through Ivan but an expression of pure joy stayed on his face.

Alfred's face fell.

"Russia? Ivan?" He shook Russia's body violently.

"Russia! God damn it, you commie fucker!" he screamed. "Come back you bastard! Russia!" he gasped for breath. "Ivanushka?" he whispered the pet name with all the fear of a scared child.

Russia's violet eyes stared at a Soviet red sky. America's sobs of anger and grief would never reach his ears and the gentle touch would go unfelt.

* * *

><p><em>I hope you cried. Not to sound like a sadist, I just hope that you were strongly affected by it. If not, please, please, please tell me why it didn't make you at least want to cry. <em>


	4. 029: Birth

Everyone says birth is the finest miracle in life. But they think it means producing regular babies, normal creatures and people.

They never think it means countries. Most people think the countries come from a population deciding on being a country.

Wrong.

I don't remember, exactly, when I come into being, when I was born. I just remember suddenly waking up in a field. It was summer; at least, it was warm and sunny that day, with a few clouds rolling across the sky. I was naked and felt no shame in it. I lay in a little, baby-me sized hole in the ground. Grass and leaves covered me and tickled my nose. I think the first thing I did was sneeze. My very first memory is that of closing my eyes and listening. I could hear the sound of people walking on my shores, the animals running across the plains. I felt a strange connection to those wandering on my land, like I knew what they were. They were like me. I had no idea what that meant, though.

After a while, I stood up and tried walking, kinda like a foal does. I failed at it the first few times, then managed to totter a few steps. Then, I was walking, then running. I figured out pretty quickly I liked to run.

I slowed down and started to walk. I walked for hours, covering several miles. See, when you don't know you're supposed to eat or be thirsty, food or water never cross your mind. I had no idea I was supposed to munch on stuff like the deer or birds I saw.

Pretty soon, I was at the edge of a village. They made funny noises, speaking was the word I learned for it, and made me laugh.

A man noticed me, and my nakedness, and walked towards me. I backed away, not sure what I should do.

"Don't be scared." He said, smiling. He seemed to know what I was, just like I knew what he was. "Do you want something to wear?" I just stared at him.

"Wear?" I asked, copying him. He picked at his clothes.

"To cover up." He said.

"Oh, yes please!" I said. He came towards me and knelt.

"I'm going to pick you up, alright?" he asked. I stared again. "I won't hurt you." He lifted me into his arms and wrapped part of his coat around me. "This way no one will tease you."

He continued to smile at me as he found something small enough for me to fit into.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"I don't know." His smile vanished.

"You don't know?" he repeated. "You're a new country. Sweden called you Newfoundland but I thought that name was lame. Spain's been calling you America, France says Amerique, and Britain says America. Maybe you're America!" He smiled again.

"I don't know." I said again. I slid out of the chair and toddled to the door. "Thanks for the shirt. I'll see you later." And I left.

That pretty much sums up my first day of life.

But, I don't think of that day, whatever day it was, as my birthday. I became the country I am today, on July 4, 1776. That's my birthday, that's the day I stopped being Britain's colony and became America. Admittedly though, I didn't become the United States of America until 1789. But that's a different story.

It doesn't really explain how I even ended up in that baby-me sized hole but I don't think that matters. If you do, that's your problem.

* * *

><p><em>So, I'm going to open up the next ones I do to requests.<em>

_031. Sunrise._  
><em> 032. Sunset.<em>  
><em> 033. Too Much.<em>  
><em> 034. Not Enough.<em>  
><em> 035. Sixth Sense.<em>  
><em> 036. Smell.<em>  
><em> 037. Sound.<em>  
><em> 038. Touch.<em>  
><em> 039. Taste.<em>  
><em> 040. Sight.<em>  
><em> 041. Shapes.<em>  
><em> 042. Triangle.<em>  
><em> 043. Square.<em>  
><em> 044. Circle.<em>  
><em> 045. Moon.<em>

_If you want me to, I will write something for you using one or two of these prompts. Just send me which one (or two) you would like and a short summery of what exactly you want in it. _


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